


Take Me Apart in a Beautiful Way

by cmorgana



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Blindfolds, Dom Aramis, Leather Kink, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of past wrong dominance, Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Tied up Athos, dom/sub dynamics, feather kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmorgana/pseuds/cmorgana
Summary: Athos never loved all the responsibilities always on his shoulders. Athos never asked to be made Captain, to add even more weight to his burden. Athos sometimes just need to let go, to remind himself not everything is on him, to somehow feel the weight lifted from his back, and Aramis is there to help him in exactly that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a very quick pwp fic, written in bed, at 4am, on my *phone*. Then something happened, boys will be boys and all, and as always Aramis and Athos took over, turning my quick pwp in whatever it is now. 
> 
> Once more I'd like to underline one thing: I LOVE MILADY. I really, really do. But it's even too easy, especially when writing canon era, to use her as the bad one. Plus I've always considered canon that between them there was some sort of Dom/sub relationship, in all their past love scenes she's leading and when he meets her for the first time...the way he bares her throat to her isn't just given by desperation, it's not depression, he's not just tired to live, to me he's clearly submitting to her as he's always done. So... yes, once more Milady is stuck in the bad dom role. Sooner or later I'll have to write good, consensual, milathos kink. 
> 
> One more thing, this fic has only be edited by me, and these past days my mind is somewhere else, so feel free to wince and blame on me all mistakes.

“I need to fuck you,” Athos says entering the room, the door slamming shut behind him, and, without another word, he pushes Aramis against the wall. He presses against him, hands already roaming his body hungrily, mouths pressed together in an off centred, messy kiss.

Aramis gives him a few seconds, then, when it's obvious Athos isn't realising what's wrong by himself, he uses all his force, the one he usually uses against enemies, to reverse their roles and pin Athos against the wall, well knowing that his lover knows how to take and control the strength of the move without hurting himself. 

Aramis blocks Athos with a hand around his throat, not tightening, not yet, just holding still, thumb almost sweetly caressing the thin skin, heartbeat quick under his finger. 

“By the look of that, to control and fuck me is the last thing you need tonight,” he whispers to Athos, now tightening his hold to feel the man gulp under his palm, an that's enough for him to know that Athos isn't going to fight back, actually he's already submitting, leaving Aramis all the control, “Right, we’re at it again. Frustration, pressure, you're breaking down, you can't take all those responsibilities on your shoulders... you need to let go, Athos,” and it doesn't sound exactly like an intimidation, but at the soft change in Aramis tone, in the moment his dominant self takes control, Athos stops moving, relaxing against the hand now almost painfully tight.

“Yes…” he says in a broken breath, eyes already half closed, but Aramis uses his free hand to grab at his hair, forcing Athos to focus on him.

“Yes? That's all you're going to tell me? You're already so far gone that you can't even talk? Or are you trying to force my hand into punishing you?” Another thug at his hair and Athos closes his eyes, moaning loudly, head thrown back against the wall, to bare his throat even more, an hot shiver running straight to his cock. 

“So? Which one?” Aramis asks again, getting another moan when he bites on the exposed column, enjoying the rough feeling of the beard.

“Yes, Sir,” Athos whispers, reminding himself to use the right way to address Aramis in a moment like that, but already so down and deep to be unable to realise he needed to really reply to a question.

“Poor baby, you need this so badly, to lose control, to let it all on me. No responsibilities, not even about your body, every move, every flinch, your orgasm, will be in my control, is that what you need?” Aramis asks whispering in Athos’ ear, leaning against him except for his hips, Athos already half hard, but too soon to give him any kind of friction. Aramis knows with him is not even totally about control, more about breaking him into pieces just to then make him whole again.

“Yes, yes sir, please... I can't... the cadets, the king… I'm so tired of everything being on my shoulders... please, Aramis,” Athos begs, whimpering under the lips kissing his neck, and for a second Aramis feels pity and anger fill his chest. His Athos, so sensitive and somehow frail under the hard façade. So scared of messing up everything, wounds from his past still open and bleeding, his new position a painful step back in his previous life, into being a Comte, into being young and alone and vulnerable. 

“It's ok, 'Thos, I've got you, I've got you,” Aramis says to him, hands now sweetly caressing his throat and scalp, eyes fixed into the light ones of his lover, already unfocused, “I'll take everything away, you just need to trust and obey me, can you do that, 'Thos?” and the man frantically nods, as a kid promised of candies if he'll finish his homework.

“Good boy, just one more thing and then you can completely put yourself in my hands,” Aramis whispers softly against his lips, kissing him kindly, “do you need pain, or is it something else you need?” He asks, almost smiling at how Athos bits on his lip, thinking. It isn't an easy question, they both know, from that answer depends the kind of release Athos will get, not the physical one, but the more important one, the relief from the responsibilities burdening him. Sometimes is pain that rids him of his inner torments, usually when he's feeling guilty for something, other times, instead, is just the need to let go, to let someone else take over his life.

“Something else,” he says carefully, almost weighing the words, making sure once more that are the ones he wants, “I don't mind pain, but it isn't that kind of need,” he adds placidly, leaning his head against Aramis hand still in his hair. 

There has been a time, at the beginning, when even to nod has been a struggle for him, when a part of him has asked, needed, but the other part has fought himself and Aramis, when only punishment and pain has subdued him. But now he is free. Of shame, of fear, of the rules he's been taught since he was a little kid. They both know that's been one of the important achievement toward his becoming a new man. 

“Then that's what you'll get, my love,” Aramis says the word, that pet name, freely. It still makes Athos flinch, but not in those moments, not while he's submitting and he needs reassurance, “take your clothes off and get on the bed,” Aramis orders, leaving him to get what he'll need from a small cabinet, “I'll tie you up, so you won't need to worry about controlling even your movements,” he states as if that's the most normal conversation, practical as always, as if telling a plan to attack someone.

“Standing,” the volume so low that the word is almost lost in the brushing of fabric while Athos divests. Aramis turns with a confused frown, and Athos gets his clue to repeat the request, “I...if possible I'd need to be tied standing, not lying on the bed, sir,” Athos adds the title as an afterthought, while studying Aramis face to see if he's broken some rule by asking, but in a second Aramis is in front of him, taking posses of his mouth, kissing him frantically, glad and proud that Athos is finally starting to ask for what he really needs.

“Anything you need is an order to me, 'Thos. Except if you'll ask for more, right?” And Athos shakes his head, so young and open, the exact opposite everyone else know, nothing about the burdened, strict man he is outside those four walls. 

For a second Aramis wonders if Olivier has been like that too, if when he used to submit to Milady, no, Anne, that was Anne, he has also showed so much vulnerability, being with the first person who has taken from him instead of demanding, but one more time he discards the thought. The last thing he needs right now is to know how deeply the scars are. With him Athos is another man, a happy, relaxed one, HE has taken him to that point, the past doesn't count anymore. Anne is dead to them and she has to stay so. 

“I won't ask, but we both know you like some begging,” Athos almost purrs, playing his seducing card, while he gets rid of his small clothes and walks to the other side of the room, to the only place he knows he can be tied up in a comfortable position.

“You know I like it, but be so sassy once more and you won't like the kind of begging I'll get out of you,” Aramis threats, already thinking of a possible fitting punishment, but he forgets everything when he sees Athos whimper at the silky ropes he is holding, hips pushing forward of their own accord.

Aramis doesn't even need to order him to raise his arms, Athos hungrily extends toward the wood he is going to be tied up to, a real stretch, but as long as Aramis keeps pressing against him while tying him up, hard leather against soft skin, rough buttons against his already half hard cock, Athos couldn't care less. 

“Is that ok? Too tight? Too high?” Aramis asks, careful, but Athos just stares at him, “I just asked you a question, Athos. Are you physically okay with the rope?” He repeats harsher a few seconds later, looking into Athos half closed eyes. 

He knows the man loves a little strain, but it could be dangerous, and he also knows that sometimes, in moments like that one, Athos doesn't seem to care about his safety, probably something ingrained in him by his ex wife so deeply that Aramis hasn't reached it yet. But he's sure one day he will, one day he'll obliterate everything that Milady has left in Athos, carved into his soul, and he'll replace it only with good and sane things.

At the moment, though, he back hands the tied up and still silent man. Athos groans at the sudden pain, but his cocks gives an interested twitch. 

“You failed again to give me an answer. Once more and you know you won't sit for a week, right?” Aramis menaces, barely holding a laugh. As if punishment isn't one of the parts Athos likes more.

“It's a bit of a strain, but it won't hurt my muscles or my wrists, tomorrow I'll be fully able to fight,” this time Athos says cautiously, making sure every single word is true, before he relaxes, letting himself almost hang from the rope, back against the wall.

Aramis studies him for a moment more. Athos is peaceful enough that he's basically already down, lost in his happy place, so he'll need something that won't require his active participation, not questions, no violence...Aramis smile when the sudden idea strikes him.

“I'm going to blindfold you, Athos. I want you to only concentrate on what you feel. You can moan, beg and be as loud as you want, I'll give orders if needed, but I won't ask you questions and you won't have to do anything,” he explains slowly and carefully, making sure Athos still gets it, and the man nods, relaxing even more against the ropes when Aramis slips the silk scarf, Athos’ scarf, the one he'll then have to wear all week, over his eyes. 

No doubt he's going to sport the ropes marks for days, but he'll find a way to hide them, as he always does, and they'll both secretly laugh at d’Artagnan embarrass in seeing them. Still the scarf will be what will really have the power to make him shiver, to make him think of the utter safety he can search and have at any moment. To make him blush while talking to the ministers.

Affectionately Aramis frees the strands of hair caught under the blindfold, and takes a step back, biting on his own lip not to sigh loudly. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, one that will never stop to amaze him. Athos lean body totally exposed, stretched in front of him, for him, hard nipples, cock hard and dark, already straining for any touch, hands relaxed into the rope. Strands of hair has fallen on his face, over the scarf, toward his red and wet lips, slightly open in his panting. Aramis has studied about art, has visited some of the most beautiful cathedrals, but he's sure nothing has even came close to that image. 

"I'm going to get away for a minute, love, but I won't leave the room, I won't leave you," Aramis says in a low, intimate, voice, waiting for Athos nod before he moves toward the cabinet. 

He gets back a few seconds later, leather glove in one hand and a feather he's bought for his hat in the other. For a second he mourns that Athos can't see that, that he's missing the look of lust and anticipation on his lover face, but the feeling is replaced a second later by fulfilment at the gasp he gets the moment the feather touches Athos' inner wrist. 

Aramis takes his time sliding the plume up and down the inner, most sensitive, part of Athos' arm, watching his lover wince every time it passes on his receptive inner elbow, and when he feels Athos shiver and panting he starts to repeat the touch with his gloved hand, the leather gently catching on the sweaty skin. 

He then gives the same treatment to the other arm, drinking in Athos' every flinch and sigh, and then Aramis lets the feather go slowly down the curve of the shoulder, the neck, the throat that Athos is now exposing to him in a request for more of that sweet torture. For a second all Aramis wants is to tighten his gloved hand against that throat, to leave a faint mark on the delicate skin to go for days together with the scarf, but at the last moment he just reaches forward to draw a path with his tongue, letting the feather follow the wet line down to the sensitive nipple, rolling it between his fingers, teasing the tip of the sensitive nub with the softest part of the plume. 

Athos gasps again, but no real moan comes out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath Aramis looks up, focusing on Athos' face, on the teeth biting so hard on his lip that it has already turned white where the blood has been cut off. At that Aramis slaps his thigh hard, and even harder when all he gets is a wince. 

"Didn't I tell you I want to hear your voice, earlier?" he asks in an hard tone, and Athos just nods. Aramis slaps his thigh once more, looking at the red handprint, "then you're not enough into this, you're still holding out, right, Athos?" he grabs his chin, more out of habit than for a real efficacy, given the blindfolded state, and he sees the frown on the man's face. 

Careful Aramis kisses him, slowly, almost chaste, his way to reassure him in moments like that.

"Do you want to tell me what's stopping you from relaxing, love?" he whispers against his mouth and Athos physically tenses, unclenching his muscles only when Aramis spanks him once more, "Athos, I need to know, it's not a request, it's an order. You said you don't want pain tonight, but I don't mind using it if it's what it takes for you to let go," Aramis commands in a stern voice, pinching the nipple once more, but this time to hurt instead than to tease.

"I…I'm sorry, Sir. I just… I'm embarrassed," Athos admits, lowering his head to hide himself from Aramis even if his eyes are already concealed. 

Aramis hesitates for a second. It's been a while since Athos has been so tense and ashamed, he's not sure why just a feather is affecting him so much, but he's not even sure he can get it out of him by gently cuddle him. This time the hold on Athos' face is definitely painful.

"I asked a question, I want a full reply," he underlines and Athos nods with a sigh, unable to refuse an order from Aramis in such moments. 

"I…I can easily go down when you touch me, when you're rough, but to react so strongly to such a light touch, a feather's touch," Athos pauses, shaking his head, blushing under the blindfold, "it's embarrassing to know I'm so weak…" he doesn't even has the time to end the sentence that Aramis is against him, kissing him with desperation, pressing their bodies against each other from mouth to toes. 

"No, no love. You're here to take whatever makes you feel better, without embarrassment. You're with me, you're safe and I'd never judge you! And I'm the one who chose the feather and the leather to take you apart, right?" Athos slowly nods, "so what, you think I chose those to deliberately hurt you, you think I'm using my power against you?" and for a second Aramis can't keep his apprehension from slipping in his voice, worried that he did something deeply wrong, that he has really hurt his Athos. Still, before he can panic Athos is quickly shaking his head. 

"Never! I trust you with my life, my heart and my soul," Athos reassures him, reversing their roles for a second, divided between being grateful to have his face hidden during such a cheesy confession and hating that stupid thing that stops him from watching his lover, "it was probably just something new, something that I didn't expect," he adds, trying to explain his reaction. 

"Athos, were you enjoying it, putting aside that shame?" the man nods again at the question, cheeks turning even redder, "then if it's okay I want you to try and relax, I want you to really enjoy this. Can you do this for me, 'Thos?" Aramis asks carefully, cursing whoever and whatever brought Athos to think that being excited by pain is less embarrassing than getting off on a gentle touch. He's glad that Athos takes a second to think about it, making sure his yes is for himself, not because Aramis requested it.

"I can, I loved the touches stark contrast," Athos admits, forcing his body to relax and feeling a spontaneous smile stretching his own lips. 

Aramis gets a sigh of relief at the knowledge that he hasn't messed up everything. 

He gives Athos a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth then he goes straight back to the sensitive nipple, making it hard again, blowing over it before he teases it with the plume over and over, and this time Athos openly moans, pushing his body forward, toward Aramis.

"Good boy," Aramis prises him, scratching the handprint he's left on his thigh, making him moan again, louder. 

The game keeps going like that for a while, soft feather, hard leather and soothing tongue, down Athos abs, with a particular attention for his navel, always so sensitive, and up again, passing on his sides to make him squirm at the light tickle.

"'Mis…" little more than a breath, the respect of a prayer, a desperate request. 

Aramis smiles at that, uncaring it's too sweet for the scene, grateful, for once, that Athos can't see him. 

"Do you need something, love?" he asks with a fake innocent tone, letting the plume run down his groin, from an inner thigh to the other, not even caressing him with the rough leather, just the tormenting, too light, touch. 

"I need…" Athos starts, but he stops, lowering his head, "whatever you want to give me," he corrects himself at the last second, slipping down inside his mind, wanting only to be good for Aramis, to let go as the man wants him to. He doesn't care if there's torment between his pleasure and the feather gently brushing his balls in the most terrible tease he's ever felt. 

Aramis doesn't answer, not in words, but he rewards him by brushing the feather up his cock, slowly, brushing against the pulsing vein in a wonderful torture, up and down again, teasing his balls with the plume and then massaging them with the gloved hand, just to get his attentions back to the cock when Athos makes a pitiful sound, the sound of a repressed plea. 

"You should see yourself, love, so desperate, I'm not even sure you know how hungrily you're moving your hips, how your hard and dripping cock twitches at every touch," he lets the feather slid lower, using it to taunt Athos' contracted hole, and at that his lover's moan is so loud Aramis can't help but smirk, "that's it, uh? You love to feel me there, to know I'm just making you ready to fuck you as you deserve, don't you, love?" he voices while distractingly kissing the hipbone, and in a second he's back at licking and nibbling anywhere he can reach except for the most sensitive places, feather teasing Athos' ass over and over until the room is filled by an uninterrupted prayer lost among the continued moans. 

When Athos is starting to be too tense, too much on the verge but painfully far from getting there, Aramis takes pity on him. Without a noise he spills some oil on his gloved fingers, slipping two inside his lover without any warning. Athos groan is primal, savage, his legs suddenly spread the most they can go without hurting his tied up wrists, and with an almost evil smirk Aramis scissors and bends his fingers, stretching him as he hits his sweet spot.

"Please," Athos begs, unable to form a coherent sentence, unable to think, but Aramis only massages his prostate some more, slipping in a third finger. 

"Just a little more, love, do you want to be good for me? Do you trust me?" but Athos is far too gone to answer with more than a frantic motion of his head. Knowing he's really going toward the pleasure becoming pain Aramis lets the feather slid once more along Athos cock, pushing it at the tip to tease the slit for a few seconds, watching the whitish drops get trapped in it, then he gently gets his fingers out and gets up. 

"'Mis?" Athos asks after just a few seconds, hearing some rustle, but somehow scared of being left alone, and right away Aramis' hand is on his waist, reassuring.

"I'm here, not leaving, remember? You don't have to worry about anything, I'm just getting free of my clothes," and the thought makes Athos smile, even knowing he's not going to enjoy the visual for a while. 

The smile hasn't even died on his lips that it's replaced, once more, by the feather, now damp with his own precome. 

Athos doesn't hesitates, he takes out his tongue, licking slowly the side, ruffling it with the point of his tongue just to then flatten it once more, deliberately slowly, teasing as Aramis has done with him up to that point, knowing the effect his tongue can have on Aramis' body.

Aramis carefully studies him. 

Athos is no longer completely down, abandoned to Aramis' any desire, desperate to serve and make him happy, he's back at teasing, still he isn't trying in any way to take control, he isn't trying to lead the game, that still is in Aramis hands. 

Aramis doesn't even put down the feather, he just let it fall in his haste to get on his knees. He pulls Athos leg on his shoulder and he straight on starts to kiss and lick. 

The base of Athos' cock, his balls, and down the crease still wet with the perfumed oil. He dips his tongue into him, licking, sucking, tasting him under the smell of the lubricant, knowing his flavour so well that he's sure he could recognize it in any circumstance. He slips again two fingers in, along his tongue, playing with them inside Athos' body, feeling the hard cock dripping against his cheek, smearing his beard with precome. 

"Aramis, I can't…fuck me" Athos moans, body tense, voice strained. 

"Almost," Aramis forces himself into saying, wanting nothing more than to do exactly that, but knowing that Athos is going down again, that he has the chance to make him come while he's totally gone and relaxed. 

He goes back to tease his ass, moaning against it when Athos clenches around his tongue, sucking it in. Aramis looks up to see Athos body completely tense, hands grabbing the rope. He's ready, they've both been for a while now. He quickly licks at the head of his cock, playing with the tip of his tongue on the slit, like he has done earlier with the feather, then he gets up, finally pressing, naked, against Athos, skin against skin, hard cocks rubbing and, at last, mouths joined for good.

Aramis doesn't need to talk, he just has to gently touch Athos' thigh to have him putting both legs around his waist, feet laced at the small of Aramis' back.

"Please, I need you," Athos asks once more in a moan, now hiding his face in the hollow of Aramis' neck and Aramis pets his head, carding through his hair, while slowly pushing into him. 

For a moment neither of them speak nor move, flushed against each other, lost in that well known intimate connection but still somehow new every time. Only when Athos relaxes in his arms Aramis starts to move, and his lover throw his head back, gripping the ropes tight enough to hurt his hands, body tense and bent backward. Aramis caresses him, the flushed expanse of sweaty skin leading to the hard nipples, he runs the hand to his throat, gripping him a few times, in tempo with his trusts, but he's gentle when he caresses Athos' face, going up to slip the scarf away from his eyes. 

When they gazes finally connect Athos pupils are wide, unfocused, totally lost in whatever is the place his mind goes in moments such as that. Aramis keeps stroking his cheek with his thumb, kissing his face, his neck, over and over, but his hips move with a deeply different rhythm, pushing hard and fast inside Athos' body, making both of them paint and shiver. 

"Can I…Can I come?" Athos asks for permission and that makes Aramis moans. He's used to that kind of games, but nothing could ever make him used to Athos, Comte de la Fère, needing his permission for something as to come. 

"Yes… yes, come for me, love. Come!" a request, an order given in the heath of the moment, but a second later Athos does, Aramis' cock buried deep in him and cock touched only by Aramis skin barely brushing against it.

Athos trust his hips down on Aramis' dick, his whole body bent backward, nails scraping at the rope and for a few seconds his mind is just empty, not a single thought, not even the realization that he's coming, just the wonderful feeling of his cock and balls pulsing in relief, of the hot come hitting Aramis belly and making his cock slide more easily against it. 

Aramis tries to keep his eyes open, to keep going to give Athos everything he has, but the clench around his cock is too much, the abandon of Athos too deep, to keep his control. He bends his head, burring his face against Athos still wavering shoulder, and he comes with a strangled groan. 

It takes both of them a second to be able to move again, Athos gets his legs down, freeing Aramis of his weight, and immediately the man reaches up to free his wrists, flinching at how they are a lot more marked than he has intended. 

The second he's free Athos lets himself slide against the wall to sit on the floor, moving his finger to get circulation back into them, the only movement his body is still able to make. For a second Aramis opens his mouth to say sorry about the wrists, but he dismissed it a moment later, realizing it really isn't the direction Athos wants his afterglow to go, so he just sits on the floor near him, sighing at the loved weight of Athos leaning against him. 

"How are you, 'Thos?" he asks instead. The man takes a deep breath, thinking about it before he shakes his head. 

"I'm alright, but I think I need to stay where I am for a little more," he explains, leaning his head against Aramis bare chest, and his lover needs nothing more to know that they're not talking about his physical position, but the safe and fuzzy place in his head. 

"It's okay, I've got you, I'll protect you for as long as you need," Aramis whispers as to not disturb him, caressing one cheek while kissing the other, Athos nods, grateful, "but let's move to the bed, alright?" Athos nods again lazily, letting his lover drag him up and across the room, totally uncaring, relaxed, feeling completely safe, how only Aramis can make him. 

They stay embraced, naked, under the heavy blanket, Athos' face on Aramis chest while the man keeps stroking his hair. 

"'Thos, love, are you here?" Aramis asks carefully when he feels his lover's breath change. Athos hums without opening his eyes. 

"I am, but I'd want to sleep and forgetting everything for a little while more," he comments, shifting to make himself more comfortable on Aramis' chest, and the man smiles at him with all the love he can muster, kissing the crown of his head. 

"Sleep, Athos, I'll be here, you have only yourself to worry and think about, or I can take care of that too, if you need it."

"I… I think I'll get myself under my own control when I'll wake up, now I'm still yours to command, 'Mis," is the last thing Athos' murmurs, ending it with a yawn before he really relaxes against Aramis, physically exhausted but emotionally alleviated, and Aramis just holds him, ready to take anything his lover will want to dump on his shoulders.


End file.
